Today Rumpelstiltskin yarded the sheep early to prepare for a pleasant event. Fate had been merciful to him - yesterday he had regained his work above and beyond and was going to come to his son today with a present.
He went to the Dorothy's house, a local healer. She was a plump woman with a mop of blond curls, always sticking out from under her cap. Finley was her younger son, and the older two were almost completely grown-up daughters. Rumpelstiltskin had always liked the complacent and risible widow who always warmly accepted his boy, and warmly treated him with chamomile and mint tea, when he came to take away his son overstayed to a late hour. Dorothy taught the boys literacy and numeracy, and talked about herbs and berries andof their useful properties. Though she was one of the most learned women in the village, she didn't put herself above others, and seemed to have little notice of her own significance. Often her stories about the healing plants and habits of wild animals came down to tips for cooking tasty and nourishing soup or for proper carding of a cat.
Rumpelstiltskin strode briskly to the solid, ivy-covered house where, according to his estimation, Bae and Finley have already finished the lesson today. Even better, he thought, throwing a straw hat, which protected him from a bright and unseasonably burning sun, off to his back. His gift will come in handy for the lesson and cannot be merely for entertainment, but also a teaching aid.
Knocking on the low heavy door, he opened it with a force and plunged into a cloud of rough herb odors, which always prevailed in this house.
"Come in, you're just in time for a tea! And watch out, the children have counted today!" A sonorous voice of a healer was heard from the kitchen doors.
"Counted?" Rumpelstiltskin thought perplexedly, sneezed and almost fell on the floor right in the kitchen doorway. All over the floor lay the golden winter stocks of onions laid scattered. "Ah, so that is what the children have counted indeed" - Rumpelstiltskin chuckled to himself and then laughed aloud, noticing undistracted children on the floor, trapped in barricades of onion braids.
"I stocked too much of this last year, and we are learning counting up to hundred." Dorothy explained what was happening, sitting in a large wooden chair with knitting in her lap. "Today is the division. And so they were dividing." She smiled cheerfully. "Have you brought what I asked?"
"Oh yes, one moment." Rumpelstiltskin took out three skeins from his bag and tossed them to the healer.
"Just in time, I've just ran out of thread." The woman put two skeins into a basket next to her, the third on her lap and resumed her knitting, deftly combining the old thread and the new.
Rumpelstiltskin was grateful for the fact that she took the boy to teach him literacy, and offered a payment, though a laughably low one, but Dorothy refused, saying that she does not care how many twinkies to teach - one or two. She agreed only on the yarn, which he had never forgotten to bring her now regularly.
"Pa, we're just going to gather the onions and I'll be ready to go!" Bae's voice rose from under the kitchen chair.
Rumpelstiltskin sat on a chair, putting his staff beside him, and shifted the bag on his knees, feeling for his gift. He smiled to himself, knowing how much squealing will come up now.
"Bae, I have a gift for you. Come over here." Rumpelstiltskin's hand beckoned his son, urging him to come closer.
Bae's eyes widened and a happy smile spread over his face, like butter on a freshly baked pancake.
"For me? Now? You mean right now?"
" Here you go, and treat it gently. I hope it will be not only interesting but also useful." said Rumpelstiltskin and took from his bag a thin, worn but still a whole and solid book.
"Papa ..." Bae's face fell "Books are so expensive ... We can not afford it." He repeated his father's words, which came out of his mouth so many times.
"I bought it yesterday in the town, from a tatter's tray, so it's not as expensive as a new one. It seems like someone was fond of this book and used to read it often. Now it's yours, take care of it."
"What's it called?" asked Bae, taking the book from his father - his first ever book.
"You tell me" smiled the father "it's yours to read."
The cover was too clobbered to still keep its name, but the title page was unharmed.
"Beauty and the Beast. The Tale." Read the boy aloud.
A month went by quickly. Bae was captured by his book, reading it in the evenings, examining the syllables, and daily he took it to Finley and Dorothy to read together. He read his most favorite lines to his father, each time stuttering less and less on the syllables.
The book only strengthened his confidence in his future knighthood. Rumpelstiltskin had repeatedly served as a backdrop for a variety of games to his son when Finley was not around, time after time playing the role of Beauty's father, a farmer, the Beast, the horse. The latter role he liked the most – all he was required was to sleep, and the story of a wounded horse wrapped around him.
Today he played the Beast. Bae stood there before him, waiting patiently. The Beast should be saying a thank-you speech dedicated to his rescue from the cruel peasants by this brave and noble knight Baelfire. Rumpelstiltskin swallowed his spoonful of porridge, sadly eyeing Bae's plate, which had already cooled.
"Thank you, oh great knight. In gratitude, I give you ... this bride. Yes, I have a Beauty in my castle, so take her and live happily ever after, the end." Rumpelstiltskin uttered his speech, copying silly gestures and manners of the noble.
"No, Daddy!" the boy begrudged "the Beauty should be your bride! After all she loved you; she discerned your beautiful soul through a terrible appearance!"
Rumpelstiltskin shook his head. Bae often gave him the role of the monster, handing him a hand broom, which denoted a theoretical lady. It was the only "girl", which he held in his hands since Milah had died. Late at the darkest nights he let the sweet thoughts of his new wife, a good girl who will take care of his Bae and let Rumpelstiltskin care for her, sneak into his head. By day he indignantly dispelled those thoughts, silly dreams of the impossible. But their last days Bae had never been tired to remind him that he had a bride.
Honestly, thought Rumpelstiltskin, playing the role of Beauty was much easier.
"Tell me, my knight, shall you come with me tomorrow to the town? There's not a lot of yearn this time, I can cope without you."
Bae immediately stopped swinging his sharpened stick, the sword, and sat on the bench, instantly gaining a decisive and focused look.
"Yes, Dad, we have important business in the town in fact."
Rumpelstiltskin blinked uncomprehendingly.
"This is… what is it?"
"Belle! I made a promise to help her, remember? To become a knight for real, not for fun and to help her. Tomorrow I'm coming to town too."
"Now have you decided on how you will help your beauty?" asked the father.
"I know, Papa, I cannot bring her food or clothing or give her home, because we do not have anything extra ourselves. But I know that the most important gift is the one that is really dear to the heart."
"And what will you give her, son? - Rumpelstiltskin asked cautiously."
"The most valuable thing I have, papa. My Book."
